


Small Hands

by bluebottle762



Series: Not All Are Born [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mutants, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 18:28:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3579525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebottle762/pseuds/bluebottle762
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prelude to a Mutant/X-Men au I'd love to get written out at some point. Something of an origin story for Levi.</p>
<p>“Not much is happening.” Farlan groaned, grinding what was left of their cigarette out on the heel of his boot, flicking the stub away deftly.<br/>“You don’t want shit to happen. Trust me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Hands

“You should have made a sign.” Levi shot his companion a look, passing the cigarette back as he exhaled smoke through his nose. It was a hot and vaguely uncomfortable sensation, but 3 years of it had desensitised him.

“With what? Pair of your off-white boxers and a marker? Would have been a shitty ass sign.” Farlan laughed at his response, quieting to take another drag of the cigarette, holding the smoke for a moment before releasing it as a sigh, the heavy grey curls tumbling from his lips enticingly. If they hadn’t been in public, Levi would have lent in to inhale it, then pass it right back to him with interest. A few more minutes in companionable silence elapsed as they passed the cigarette back and forth between them, sat on the cold grey stairs.

“So when does it start?”

“It has started, you fuck.” Levi gestured around them at the groups of people stood, sat, and huddled round the square. Most of them were indeed sporting signs, others printed t-shirts, but most were just there to make up numbers and express their views. A girl with large curved horns and a sign reading ‘Mutate don't hate’ tucked under her arm hurried past them to join up with a group of friends.

“Not much is happening.” Farlan commented, grinding what was left of their cigarette out on the heel of his boot, flicking the stub away deftly.

“Not yet. It's still early, they'll have speakers up on the monument soon. Beyond that, you don’t want shit to happen. Trust me.” Pulling his jacket closer around himself, he scanned over the square. It was his equivalent of people watching, letting that other part of himself shuffle through people until he found something he could borrow. A few more minutes silence passed, Levi contentedly occupied by the wealth of abilities that were available to him.

“You cold?” Farlan shifted on his step, agitated and most definitely not enjoying the early March weather. Levi shrugged, not particularly caring either way. He had a jacket, it was enough. Feeling a weight on his shoulder, Levi moved to accommodate his partner, slinging an arm over his shoulder.

His back against Levi, Farlan formed his hands into a loose ball and let the energy travel through him. It started at the very tips of his fingers, quickly spreading all the way up to his elbow, his flesh taking on a starlight quality, all swirling motion, white-silver like the moon’s reflection. Once the warmth had reached just past his elbow, he let it go slowly, draining from his fingers into an invisible sphere between his hands. It looked how one might imagine dreams would if they could be poured and measured. After the ball was fully formed, he let it burst and dissolve, soothed and satisfied with his work.

They spent most of the day like that, occasionally talking and smoking, getting up to find food around midday, and returning soon after. There were some good speeches, mixed in with periodic sessions of simply making noise to cause an effective disruption, and one failing attempt at poetry. The day remained positive until around four in the afternoon.

Things were beginning to disband; families were heading home, groups of friends were heading out for dinner. There had been no more scheduled speakers or events since around 1PM, but the energy of the protest had taken a long while to dissipate.

“Shall we make a move?” Shifting Levi’s head from his lap, Farlan stretched, grunting as something shifted in his back. “I ache.” Displeased about his removal, Levi sat up and looked around. For the past quarter of an hour he’d been half asleep, just listening to the crowd around them with his boyfriend's familiar warmth at his back.

“I could do with food.” Stretching likewise, he stood up, Farlan following suit a second or so later. Together, the pair of them started moving further down into the square towards their subway station. That was when the shouting started.

“You've had your freak show, now fuck off!” Brow creasing, Farlan turned, catching Levi’s arm to make sure he didn’t leave without him. Crowding into the half empty square were a group of counter protesters, much smaller in number than their peaceful demonstration had been - no doubt why they'd waiting this long to try and cause a scene. All of them had some kind of sign or item of display, and Farlan couldn't help notice the majority of them where white and middle aged. 

The remaining crowd of pro-mutant protesters reacted fairly calmly, coming up to meet the new invaders and vocally engage. For a moment nothing much more than an argument seemed to be breaking out, and Farlan turned back to his partner. Rolling his eyes, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his hoody.

"Assholes. C'mon lets get moving, I don't have the energy for this."

As they resumed their trek back to the subway station feeling as though the day had been marred somewhat, the sound of shattering glass caught up with them. A girl screamed, shrill and piercing, followed by an explosion of voices. Heart pounding, Farlan looked to Levi.

“Leave. Now.” Harlan gave a curt nod in response, and the pair of them made a run for the nearest out road, not caring where it lead to. They had barely advanced ten feet when something came hurtling towards them, presumably having missed it's original target. There was a brief moment, in which for Farlan time seemed to slow. It was a beer bottle. Wait, no… Something else- “Get down--!”

Obeying without question, Levi dived forward, hitting the ground and rolling as the Molotov sailed past them and hit a statue some twenty feet away. At an insane rate, the square descended into chaos. Disorientated from the sudden movement, he looked around, heart racing, but head still level. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t expected some level of aggression towards the protesters, but this- Where was Farlan?

Getting to his feet he scanned the moving throng of people for his familiar silhouette. The sound of a gunshot doubled his sense of urgency, and the panic grew in his chest, threatening to take a hold of him. Keeping it at bay, he pushed further in, trying to calculate where he could have been carried too. It took far too long until he finally spotted him.

There was a young girl by his feet, screaming and crying, blood covering one leg of her pants, clutching at her thigh. He was talking to her, trying desperately to pull her to her feet.

Making his way towards him, he pushed through panicked groups of people, all trying to get away from the oncoming assault that was moving across the square. Losing sight of him once or twice, he relied on his hearing to inform him of what was going on around him. He could hear screaming and crying, as well shouting and unidentifiable noise. It all mingled into one almighty roar of discord.

Getting into a clear area, he caught sight of him as another gunshot cracked through the square. The world seemed to stop.

The first shot shattered Farlan's hip, glancing off the bone, ripping through the flesh and fabric in a violent shower of blood and splintered bone. Sending him tumbling to the ground, his eyes wide in shock, he reached out towards his attacker, the glittering, silver galaxy light starting out at his fingertips, spreading down his forearm preparing to defend himself. Too late. Feeling the panic rise to a fever pitch in his chest Levi began to sprint towards him, but it was as if the space between them stretched on into infinity. Each paving stone of the crowded, screaming square spanning miles of untraversable human loss.

“Farlan-!”

He knew the scream had left him, he’d felt his jaw move, his throat vibrate, his tongue form the familiar string of shapes it had performed countless times in countless ways- But the sound was lost in the pandemonium, the rush of his own blood in his ears, but above all, the second shot.

It caught him on the right side of his chest, blasting its way through both ribcage and lung, exiting at an angle some four inches below his shoulder, leaving a mangled trail in its wake. Farlan hit the ground hard, what air left in him being forcibly expelled on impact. The charge that had been building in his left arm dissipated, silver starlight cascading over the paving stones like the smoke that had tumbled from between his lips not three hours earlier. The girl beside him screamed, pulling herself away as best she could despite her injury.

Choosing speed over personal well-being, Levi threw up an arm, grasping onto the familiar pull of Farlan's power and aiming his own energy blast in the direction the shot had come from, not caring who or what it struck, and threw himself towards him. Numbly he registered the tearing sting of skin parting company with his knees, but it was nothing to the overwhelming pain emanating from his chest, as if his very soul was screaming inside him. Pulling Farlan roughly into his lap he clutched at him, as if somehow, if he held him tight enough, he might have more of a chance.

Frantically, he searched through the scattered ranks of protesters for something he could use, something that would stop the bleeding. Claws, empathy, invisibility, durability- A wide range of powers and abilities surrounded him, but not the one thing he needed most. He was jerked from his search by a hand grasping tightly at the front of his shirt. From the crook of his arm, Farlan smiled up at him weakly and shook his head before spluttering and gasping, trying his hardest to draw in breath. The hole in his chest bubbled sickeningly as he fought for air, splattering Levi’s sleeve in thick, dark blood. He moved his lips, as if trying to say something. Levi wanted to shake him.

“No, shut the fuck up, you are not giving me any last fucking words, you ungrateful shit-” Looking back up into the churning mass of people around them, he tried again. There must be someone, there _had_ to be someone out there with a healing power. The back of his throat felt thick and hot, like he’d been breathing in the ashes of a house fire. He was pulled from his search a second time as the hand gripping his shirt slackened its hold, giving in to the pull of gravity to rest against his stomach. If his throat and chest had felt constricted before it was nothing as to how they felt then. 

“Farlan?” The tremble in his voice was unfamiliar, even to his own ears; it was something that hadn’t been present there in years, belonging to the incessant vulnerability of childhood.  Chest rising and falling far too quickly, he lost all awareness of the world around them.  

In his lap, Farlan tried to lift his shoulders, only managing to force yet more blood from the wound in his chest. Giving up on the endeavour with a watery grunt of pain, he looked up at Levi, grey eyes still deceivingly so full of spirit.

“Ss-s-” Trying to speak, the words only managed to form as a drawn out, gurgling ghost of speech. Levi’s eye’s darted to his lips, reading the shapes rather than trying to decipher the sounds.

_‘See you later’_

All the tension in his shoulders dissipated, muscles relaxing as all the fight left them. One last bubble formed and burst from the still chest. Levi’s grip did not lessen. There were no tears, no anguished cries. Only shock, and the deep hollow that had been left in him where once there had been a life.

Without consciously commanding it, he searched for a third time, this time without haste or panic, and found what he was looking for. Hunching forward, he held the limp weight of Farlan close to his chest, a soft haze in the air the only sign that a barrier had been erected around them. Whether it was the protective bubble that dampened the sound, or simply the cocktail of emotions running through him, he didn’t care.  After what seemed like lifetimes, his breathing regulated and slowly, he sat up. The flashing blue lights of the emergency vehicles reflected tauntingly in Farlan’s eyes, glassy and unnerving, as if they still held a life behind them.

 

There was something he had to do.

Shifting the body from his lap, he leaned forward and began to dig through his jacket pockets. Locating what he was looking for was no challenge, he’d always kept them in the same places. It didn’t even require thought. Wallet, right jacket pocket. Pocket knife with his last name and first initial 'F. Church' carved into the handle, front jean pocket. Lighter and half a pack of cigarettes, left jacket pocket. Spent book of matches with an old phone number scribbled on the inside, left breast pocket. After stripping him of these small things and secreting them about his person, Levi stood, taking one last look at the figure by his feet. He did not look peaceful, just dead. Dead and gone, gone forever like that silver light of his. Turning, he began to walk. Where to he didn’t know. Away, somewhere that wasn’t here. He chose not to look back.

Focusing on his feet, making them carry him forward, he was vaguely aware of a large vehicle moving into the square somewhere ahead of him. Most of the chaos had been short lived after bullets started flying, police had poured in, separating protesters from attackers as best they could. But they had been too late for Farlan. The square had been cleared of aggression, Levi didn’t remember it happening. It must have been in that never ending stretch of eternity that, from the other side, seemed unreal.

Unaware of the world, he kept walking, thoughts spiralling ever deeper until a hand landed on his shoulder. Reacting on impulse alone, he threw it off, ducking away in case his attacker made a second attempt to grab a hold of him, threw a kick that somehow failed to connect, and without thinking, drew on the first power that presented itself, throwing a punch with it. The colour was what stopped him.

Silver, like starlight. Farlan’s silver. Caught off guard, he watched the beam connect with a sandy haired man at least a foot taller than himself, wearing what he could only suppose was some kind of wetsuit. It hit him square in the chest, sending him reeling backwards to collide with another wetsuit clad individual.

His mind was racing. He was a mimic; he could only copy the powers of those around him, or some version of them. He’d used Farlan’s before, and his energy had always come out dark, black and speckled with tiny dim lights like a light polluted sky. But how could- No. Farlan was dead, there was no doubt about that. He’d felt him leave, he’d listened to that dead, empty chest, hoping and praying to a god he didn’t believe in. He was gone.

Becoming aware that the people around him had had plenty of time to recover from the initial shock of his attack, he searched for something that would get him away, latching onto the closest thing that bore any vestige of being motion based. It didn’t hurt, but he felt it. It was like the feeling when you miss a step going up, but higher, misplaced. His shirt tore, jacket lifting awkwardly up around his shoulders as the _wings_ expanded into being from his shoulder blades, large and graceful, with sleek black feathers. Not expecting this, he staggered forward. No one at the rally had had wings, he was sure. It wasn’t exactly something you missed. So where had these come from? His question was answered as he turned to his left, trying to find somewhere to take off.

“How did you do that?” The calmness of the question, the tone of the voice, something about it cut through his wildly streaming thoughts and made him pay attention. Majestic golden wings framed the man in front of him, stern expression and piercing blue eyes seeming to see right through him and out the other side. “Please calm down. We’re on your side.”

**Author's Note:**

> To clarify, Levi is about 20 years old at this point, hence why he's slightly more volatile than he perhaps normally would be.
> 
> EDIT: This has indeed been updated and edited in fucking 2018. I had the notion to come back and fix this after 3 years. rip.


End file.
